A Light in the Greatest Darkness
by BabyChocoboAlchemist
Summary: "Come on, Prom, don't cry. You're always so quick to cry." Promptio. Prompto feels abandoned by his friends, most of all Gladiolus. And in the wake of a great battle, the gunner feels even more useless than usual. Gladio and the others to pull him out of his void, letting him know he's loved, wanted, needed.


Author's Note: This was inspired by several comments about Gladiolus, all of them agreeing on how Promptio is their least favorite ship because of how rough Gladiolus is. The big bear's not my favorite of the Sailor Scouts (Prompto took that award, Ignis being a close second), but I love them all and feel Promptio deserves as much of a chance as other popular ships.

Enjoy. Thank you for being here!

* * *

His eyes shot open, meeting the same darkness he found in his nightmares.

Winter slammed into his lungs, bringing with it relentless fear. Visions of memories, truth he wanted to erase but couldn't. The steps he had taken, and the truth he held so close to heart, were engraved on time's pages, forcing him into a void. A dungeon that held his heart in an iron grip, crushing it with no intention of letting him see the light of day.

It was gone, the light his friends, his _soulmates,_ brought, but it was light he never should've felt in the first place. Clutching his heart with a hand, he felt himself falling deeper into a void that knew only winter's darkness and meteoric screaming. Shrill, piercing panic. All of it burning his chest, his head, fingers, bedroom. He was awake but felt as though his dreams were still unfolding, holding him in a world that knew only red. Stains, splashes that stained his friends' bodies. Havoc _he_ caused, proven by the stench of death on his hands.

Prompto had awakened, but his nightmares were still unfolding. It was quiet in a world completely detached from everyone he held dear. Cold, isolated, dark, quiet but loud. Achingly loud. Heart racing at the speed of light, he swore he'd fall apart at the seams any moment, like the useless ragdoll he was. He fought for warmth, any bit of warmth, but with the visions of his soulmates came even greater pain. Guilt. Arrows that pierced his flesh. Tears burning his eyes, he found himself returning to a nightmare that unfolded several days ago-the very nightmare responsible for his inability to sleep. For his inability to find peace. It not only reminded him of the truth but slapped him with it.

Prompto would've felt better if Titan had clocked him with his fists.

Clutching his blankets, he fought off memories he knew he deserved to be tortured by. Memories of a battle against an Aramusha. Concern and horror raced across his friends' faces like chocobo stampedes, all because of _him._ He tried to be brave, tried to be as strong as they were, tried to be the friend they deserved, but-

" _Why weren't you more careful?! You could've been killed, kid, and we would have had to clean up the mess!"_

Gladiolus. Gladiolus echoed the thoughts that were surely on the minds of the others. Ignis. Noct. None of them his friends or even his brothers, but people that provided him with bonds that transcended all boundaries. Ignis was the picture of soft compassion, rarely ever anything but calm and collected. Noctis was a million miles away, hovering between speaking up on the photographer's behalf or remaining in silent agreement with Gladiolus. The prince eventually said a few things to Iris' brother but none of them registered. Nothing registered. Nothing was seen, heard, felt outside of guilt.

Shame.

Prompto was wrong. He couldn't be the friend, the _hero,_ they deserved. He couldn't be anything.

Tears not only trickled down his cheeks, but burned the insides of his chest as well. Not only had he failed Ignis and Noctis, but he had let down Gladiolus. Letting down Noct and his advisor was already an unforgivable crime, but Gladiolus? Impressing Gladiolus meant something to him. Letting the team's gladiator know he could be great at something, even just a little something, meant the world to him. Noctis' trainer was bound to the Crown Prince since the beginning of time, and Noctis himself already meant an enormous deal to him, so why not impress his trainer?

And Gladiolus was always kind to him. Encouraging. Earthy. He reminded Prompto of the earth, pure, strong, gentle yet empowering. He was incredible with the others, only harsh with Noctis whenever the situation demanded it, and affectionate towards the team's Princess Scientia. He looked after Prompto as the sun looked after the horizon in the wake of a long, brutal winter. Kept the 'kid' safe, while keeping his eyes on the others.

Gladiolus. Gladiolus believed in him, trusted him, but no more. No more.

Prompto had been right all along. He really _was_ useless.

They weren't anywhere near him, the men that were the brightest lights in the greatest darkness. They hadn't been anywhere near him for days. After their mission against the Aramusha, Noctis' duties locked them inside the palace, benching a certain gunslinger. Prompto never should've become friends with any of them in the first place, most of all Noctis. They had their hands full handling the kingdom's responsibilities, Ignis probably forming more intricate battle strategies, Gladiolus handling other matters and Noctis working on wearing the crown.

Sure, Prompto was one of Noctis' retainers.

He was also the useless, brain-dead retainer.

Sniffing, hiccupping, the photographer got out of bed. Someone was knocking on the door, and urgently. He didn't know what time it was but time was irrelevant, as his world was an abyss of silence nonetheless. Tears blinding him, he put his hand on the doorknob without asking who was on the other side, opened it, and found-

"Gladio?"

It was none other than Iris' brother, shoulders cloaked in snow, painting him into a brilliant picture underneath a cerulean winter's sky. The prince's mentor was a portrait of strength and a surprising amount of awkwardness, something Prompto thought he'd _never_ associate with the big bear. And in his arms was a bag of some sort. A gift-wrapped bag.

"Hey, kid. Um, sorry about not calling first, but if I had called, you would've turned me down, so here I am."

Prompto frowned, confused, still shaking off sleep, feeling as though the Astrals had cast him into a different dimension. He wouldn't have turned down Gladio. Not in a million eons. He missed him! Euphoria, warm, soothing euphoria, coursed through him along with bewilderment. But before he could give a voice to any of his happy thoughts, Gladio stepped forward, evidently wanting to offer him the bag.

"Got somethin' for you. Hope you like it."

"But…but it's not my birthday," Prompto whimpered, gingerly taking the bag, feeling completely and utterly moronic for not saying anything greater. Every fiber of his being was screaming for him to hug Gladiolus, to apologize and promise he'd do better next time.

The swordsman shook his head at the chocobo's response, smiling, still strangely shy. "Yeah, I know," he chuckled. The sound poured sunshine into the gunner's chest, despite the winter still unfolding. And the look on Gladio's face was one of embarrassment. Fear.

He was wondering if Prompto would even like the gift bag. Just a few moments ago he was ready to rip Prompto's head clean off his shoulders.

"Just open it already, will ya?"

The blonde gunslinger's heart pounded in his ears. He knew he should've let Gladio inside but couldn't, unable to find his voice. Eyes still burning with tears, fingers clammy, trembling, he opened the package as though it contained all of Eos' most sacred secrets. "It's a bag," Iris' brother explained, mistaking the look on his friend's face for confusion.

"A photographer's bag, I mean. It's for your equipment. There's a belt inside, too. It's supposed to let you wear your camera on your shoulders or something. I remember you saying something about becoming a professional photographer, so I thought I'd help out."

The bag. Warm, black, and it smelled of the earth. It had buckles, silver buckles, all of them shining like the moon. And there was a belt, just as black as the bag. With a tiny chocobo pin on it. "I was gonna go for a camera," Gladio began, rubbing the back of his neck.

"But that would've been too low-key. You've probably got millions of 'em anyway. You all right with that, kid?"

Prompto didn't even know where he was. What _universe_ was he in? Just a moment ago, he was trapped in nightmares of his own making, blood-stained hands and all. Just a moment ago, Gladiolus was shouting at him, demanding to know why he had been so stupid, so careless.

A second voice entered the picture. "Now look what you've done, jackass. You're making little brother cry. He probably already has a bag."

A third voice arrived. "I'm sure no harm has been done. We all know very well how delicate our baby bird is. It _is_ rather early in the morning, and chocobos don't enjoy being left alone for long."

"Oh yeah, these morons are here too," Gladiolus declared, ushering Noctis and Ignis towards a silent, tearful Prompto. Both had gifts of their own, cradling them with love and care. All of them cloaked in the glow of the winter snow.

They were there. They were there. All of them were there. Smiling. So warm, so kind, so loving.

Noctis pressed his gift into the gunner's arms, beaming with mischievous pride. "Open mine," he urged Prompto playfully, then tossed a glare at Gladiolus. "It's a lot better than _his_ stupid gift, trust me."

With a warm chuckle, Ignis stepped forward. "None of our gifts are insignificant, Noct," he put in, not at all stern but merry, just as radiant as the day's first kisses. "I do believe he'll find all three of our gifts teeming with importance."

"Wait a minute," Noctis' former classmate gasped, clutching the photographer's bag and the prince's gift, staring at the ones that were a million miles away just a few seconds ago. Staring at the ones that filled him with life, love, magic.

"What _is_ this? I mean, it's not, I didn't-"

"It's our way of saying 'we're sorry'," Gladiolus cut in, gentle, patient. "Business took us away from you for a while, and, well, we're sorry."

"You always get so mopey whenever we're busy," the prince chuckled, patting the top of Prompto's head. "Wiz always says that the best way to lift a chocobo's spirits is to pamper it, so here we are. Ready to show you the time of your life. We know it's early, but the earlier we start, the more time we'll have for fun. Makes sense, right?"

Ignis glared at Noctis. "You have the audacity to speak of sense, yet I almost had to summon an entire army to awaken you. If we had left the day's agenda in your hands, our chocobo would've been left alone even longer."

Noctis returned the serve with a theatrical curtsy. "Excuse me for being so delicate, Your Highness. You have nothing to fear, though, for I will always protect you from ruffians, far and near."

The banter between the prince and his advisor continued, always putting on matches for Prompto's benefit, the two of them loving the sound of their photographer's laughter whenever they held verbal ping pong matches. Their newest round continued, followed by that familiar, twinkling sound, assuring them their friend's heart had become a thousand times lighter.

While Gladio wasn't immune to the joy flowing through time's veins, he was never one to stay quiet. With no small amount of reluctance, hating himself for ending such a musical, magical sound, he cut off Prompto's laughter by taking his arm. "Sorry, kid," he murmured into the photographer's ear, smiling sheepishly.

"But I need you for a few. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be back in time for the wedding."

The gunslinger's cheeks turned rose red. "Are we-is everything okay?"

"Not really," was the firm answer, every word wrapped in anger not directed at Prompto, but at himself. "By the way, lemme know if you need help putting Ignis' gift together."

"How come?" a blushing, exhausted photographer asked, ushering the three men inside. Noctis and Ignis kept their match going, knowing their baby bird was engaged in much-needed conversation with Gladiolus. Iris' brother threw a smile at him.

"Not telling you what it is, kid, just that it comes with a lot of parts."

Prompto was led into a quiet corner of the universe, with Noctis' and Ignis' familiar, warm voices fading into the background. No longer trapped inside the confinement of his nightmares, he found himself in a humble temple that housed warmth. Such soothing warmth. Hope. "Once the lovebirds are done with their spat, they'll be ready to go," Gladio announces, his voice soft.

"Go? Go where?"

"Wherever you wanna go. Today's all about you, kid. Today and tomorrow. Whatever you wanna do, we're on board."

Prompto clutched the photographer's bag and Noctis' wrapped gift harder.

"Yeah, I know we left you alone for a little while, and I'm sorry. Just want you t' know we're here now. We're always here. We may get a little busy every now and then, but…we aren't going anywhere. We've got your back, pup."

Silence followed the gladiator's words, with Prompto's head bowed and arms clutching the two gifts as though they were lifelines. Noctis' trainer settled a hand on top of the younger man's head, his touch as warm as the kiss of Spring, spirit sensing the photographer's heartache.

"About the way I acted back there…look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been such an ass."

"It's okay," came the tiny whimper, but the swordsman didn't step down.

"No, it's _not._ I forgot myself back there. Forgot you weren't born in a world made of death, bloodshed and conspiracies. Things have been pretty crazy lately, I let it all get to me, and I used it against _you._ Yeah, I was pretty worried about you back there, but…I shouldn't have done that. You were only trying t' help, kid. Sorry."

Prompto's mind swelled with a billion responses, all of them screaming, electric echoing inside his skull. "What's up?" Iris' brother asked gently, landing a hand on his friend's shoulder, sending shivers of warmth, disbelief and longing through the gunner's spine.

"Still mad at us for leaving you behind so long?"

Prompto shook his head vehemently, still clutching the photographer's bag and Noct's unwrapped present. "It's cool," he replied, trembling as though arctic cold had wrapped itself around his body. "Don't worry about it. I know how it gets. Actually, I _don't_ know, but I know. I know you guys have a lot to take care. It's just…Gladio?"

"What's on your mind, Prom? Just say it. Mad at _me?"_

With a tiny 'nah uh', Prompto shook his head yet again, unable to fathom the idea of even being slightly angry with Gladiolus, just happy, relieved to have him so close. There were things he wanted, needed to say, though, all of them erupting in the tired, tear-stained chambers of his mind.

' _I'm sorry.'_

' _I'll do my best from now on, I promise.'_

' _I think I am from a world made of blood, Gladio. I dream about it every night.'_

' _I'm glad you don't hate me.'_

Prompto's voice was hoarse, tiny, full of cracks.

"Can you hug me?"

"Sure, kitten."

Into warm, strong arms he was taken, shielded against the arctic frost of his nightmares. Shielded against himself, his insecurities, his fears. Everything felt right, gentle, earthy, inside the arms that would protect him from even the Astrals. Prompto fought off the urge to fall asleep right then and there, lulled into the purest security by the other's pulsating warmth. "Don't you _ever_ get tired of being adorable?" Iris' brother asked, after planting a kiss in the top of his head.

"Oh. Glad you like the bag, by the way."

"I love it, thank you," came the tearful whimper, buried in the gladiator's chest. "Thank you. Thank you, Gladio. Thank you."

Even more tears erupted inside of Prompto's chest, but thick, warm hands cupped his face, preventing sobs from spilling out. "Come on, Prom, don't cry," came the gentle, comforting words.

"You're always so quick to cry, kid. Please don't turn on the waterworks again."

That only made the need to turn the waterworks on even stronger, impossible to ignore. Fortunately, Prompto's sobs were only a few minutes long, as the need to sleep was even greater. Gladio set the gifts down then swept the sleeping bundle of tears into his arms bridal-style, smiling, happy to see the other was finally resting. Gently he laid a kiss on the gunslinger's forehead, then-

" _Hey._ Would you two keep it down? Kid's asleep. Take your lover's spat outside."

* * *

Author's Notes: Ignis bought Prompto a tripod. Noctis bought Prompto a Shiva charm, a beautiful, sparkling treasure made for good luck.


End file.
